Here is the difference between Dante, Milton, and me. They wrote about hell and never saw the place. I wrote about Chicago after looking the town over for years and years.

Come clean with a child heart Laugh as peaches in the summer wind Let rain on a house roof be a song Let the writing on your face be a smell of apple orchards on late June.

The marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading "Keep Off.

Whenever a people or an institution forget its hard beginnings, it is beginning to decay.

By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul.

The single clenched fist lifted and ready, Or the open asking hand held out and waiting. Choose: For we meet by one or the other.

The shovel is the brother to the gun.